


If the hat fits

by Pezzythecat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pezzythecat/pseuds/Pezzythecat
Summary: Concerning Martin Blackwood and his emotional connection to the beach.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	If the hat fits

**Author's Note:**

> This is a flashfic written for the Magnus Archives Flash Fan work Challenge prompt "beach". Check it out at https://magnus-mailday.dreamwidth.org!

  
  


His mother smiled once.

It seemed like another lifetime; it was another lifetime. A childhood that held ice cream and donkey rides and his dad wearing a stupid hat that read 'kiss me quick' while his mum beamed at him behind rose-tinted sunglasses with a love-struck grin.

A trip to Blackpool. He remembered seeing the Blackpool Tower and his dad trying to convince his mother that they had stolen the one from France.

'Tell her Martin, tell her we stole it for her because we love her so much we brought her the most romantic monument in the world' he remembered it as clear as day his happy little family sitting in the ballroom watching the dancers twirling round and round and round.

If he tried very hard he could remember the feeling of the rocks underfoot and his feet sinking into the sand.

They had been happy once.

His mother, his father and little old him, eyes wide with wonder as he looked at the boats coming and going from the harbour side.

He had been happy as he watched his father, the man he adored fishing from the pier as he chatted to the sailor, the shiny whistle around his neck glinting in the sun.

The harbour was quiet as he heard talk of a bet, and soon after his father was gone.

* * *

  
  
Martin hated the sea.

His mother hated the sea, and by default he felt much the same way.

He watched as the waves rolled up the sandy shore, trying to put together a smattering of memories he was sure belonged to somebody else. The vastness of the grey dismal waves breaking into icy tundras on the shoreline did little to change his mind.

The packet of chips wafted in front of his face by an over exited Tim told him that his feeling on the great British coast were entirely his own.

"Chip?"

The salt and vinegar drowned the paper, the chips fared even worse.

The lead had been a dead end, one more thing for Jon to hate him for.

They ate in silence listing to the waves crash and the ever so slightly off key tune of the arcades trying their hardest to drown out the roar of the enraged sea.

As they headed back to the car park, they picked up some rock for Sasha, done so at her request. As they waited to pay, Tim grabbed at a hat from the counter.

“well I need one of these for reasons “

The black boater with the words 'kiss me quick' squeeze me slow ' etched on the ribbon tugged at something deep inside him and he looked away sharply.

Jon probably wouldn't appreciate the highland cow made of seashells with googly eyes, but if it meant Tim didn't see the tears in his eyes it was a fiver well spent.

  
  


* * *

As he watched Jon climb into the back of Daisy's car, dark bags under his eyes and a backpack full of plastic explosives he decided.

He really fucking hated the beach.

* * *

It was funny.

No, not funny.

Funny wasn't the feeling he had.

He was too hollow now for feelings to have anywhere to bury themselves

It was cold .

The beach always was.

It had always been cold, even when it was sunny.

Even when he had been safe, he hadn’t , really.

He was alone.

He was alon

He was al

He was a

He was

He wa

He w

He is

He is not

He is not alone.

The sound of a voice cutting through the fog like a distant beacon.

He should follow it. He needs to see….

* * *

  
  
  
  


The Loch had a beach.

A pebble stone thing that broke into a fine powder where the waves lapped slow and rhythmic as it lulled the world around it to a calming embrace.

Smaller hands wrapped tightly in his own, crammed close and warm under a large blanket stolen from the back of a long unused closet.

Safe.

Jon gazed at the vast Loch from between his legs, watching as a small blue boat sailed off in the distance.

"Why a seashell cow? ," Jon questioned.

"Why not cows are cute, would you have preferred I got you a stick of rock? ,"

" you could have gotten me a hat like Tim's , I might have taken you up on the offer,"

It wasn't Jon's fault he didn't know .

"I wonder if it's still in the archives somewhere… maybe in-" Jon cut off.

The eye had told him. Martin wished it wouldn't do that. It made the fall back into the lonely all the easier. Maybe that was the point.

Raising hands to his lips, Jon whispered into the back of his hand.

What he said lost, Carried away on the wind.

he didn’t need to hear the ‘I love you’ to know what he had said 

  
  


* * *

The donkey plush had possibly been a step too close towards tacky, but it absolutely encapsulated Tim.

Martin watched as Jon tied it to the wooden bench, wiping down the nameplate with the sleeve of his cardigan, before turning taking a seat and reaching out for Martin’s hand.

It wasn’t quiet, off in the distance Georgie could be picked out over the sound of the locals, shouting at one of the kids to behave, ice cream vans played their discordant jingle so far away from the music that had lead to the destruction that had once seeped into the very existence of the ground where they now sat.

As they watched the world around them Martin ate quietly from the vinegar sodden packet, each chip tinged with the salt that might have been from his own tears, he never really knew.

Beside him Jon pulled out the battered hat, the ribbon long since faded since the world had been unmade and made anew. Some things survived, despite everything stacked against them.

They watched as the kids raced around the small park, screaming and shouting, unaware of the significance of the spot beneath their own feet.

The hat placed on his head broke him from sombre thought, the gentle press off Jon’s hand to his cheek grounded him and brought him back from the foggy place his mind would wander still if left unchecked. The kiss reminded him he was not alone.

“Gross dad’s are kissing” a small voice perked up as ice cream covered hands pushed all sadness from his heart.

Sandy feet climbing, bubble wand waving invasion clambered over them, leading Melanie by the hand.

Sad , he was sad once.

But now. In a park that had once been a wax museum, on a bench that held his friends' memories and surrounded by his family, he was happy.

It seemed like another lifetime; it was another lifetime. A life that held ice cream and donkey rides and his husband wearing a stupid hat that read 'kiss me quick' while he beamed at him behind rose-tinted sunglasses with a love-struck grin.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate the beach after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading.   
> love kudos but comments are always like a hug in the inbox


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